


Of Indefinite Confinements

by readbetweenthelines



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: F/M, Feelings, and a LOT of sarcasm, very mild peril
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23926402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readbetweenthelines/pseuds/readbetweenthelines
Summary: Set a couple of months after the events of Ptolemy's Gate. Kitty can't stand not knowing what happened to Bartimaeus and Nathaniel two months ago, so she finally tries to summon the djinni.Unfortunately, as per usual, nothing goes to plan.B/K pairing, but a few other unexpected characters are there as well.
Relationships: Bartimaeus/Kitty Jones
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Don't I know you?

**Author's Note:**

> What with the whole lockdown going on i've decided to revisit some of my old uncompleted bits of work - and this in particular is one that's been in the back of my mind for a long, long time (And stewing away completely un-updated on another site for even longer).
> 
> I'll be revising the chapters i'd already written, and finally finishing off the whole thing once and for all.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I now haven't read these books for what must be about a decade, so apologies in advance for what is sure to be a not insignificant number of mistakes.

**Kitty**

What the hell was she doing.

Kitty closed her eyes as she leaned away from the from the paraphernalia littering the coffee table, throwing down the pencil in her hand, and sighed. As she settled back in her armchair she ran a hand back through her hair, which was still just as grey as that day at the glass palace. Although thankfully the wrinkles in her skin had gradually started to smooth out, leaving her looking more like a case study in why to not spend all day outside in the sun, as opposed to a strangely agile sixty year old woman. Her friend Jakob, who she'd only recently managed to make contact with in the Council of Brugges, had joked that it was a shame her skin seemed to be slowly improving, as he was looking forward "to someone being in an even worst state that me!"

Despite the improvements, she still found some residual physical weakness lingered from her brief visit to the Other Place.

Yet another reason why this was probably a bad idea.

But she had to know.

Was he dead? He had to be, of course. But it was like an itch that must be scratched.

She had to know for sure.

Lord knows everyone else in London had moved on. Not that anyone else had ever really given more than a passing thought to fate of the spirit hidden behind a martyred magician. In contrast, Nathaniel's funeral had been an extravagant affair; with endless speeches and weeping crowds spilling onto the streets of London out of St. Paul's cathedral. Not exactly a bad show for a politician, but it was to be expected when said political figure also happened to be only seventeen years old. 

Kitty had gone, she'd mourned with the masses, and she was over it. She _had_ only known the guy properly for about two hours after all. Although he'd seemed sort of okay at the end there.

Bartimaeus on the other hand, she'd seen him. Really _seen_ him. And that wasn't something she could just forget and move on from. He real self was magnificent, beautiful? 

It was strangely easy to match what she saw in the Other Place with his somewhat acerbic, odd personality.

Kitty shook her head dismissively and opened her eyes again, looking down at her lead stained hands and taking a deep breath. What good would all this introspection do? He'd laugh in her face if he saw how something a simple as a summoning had her wound up to this extent. Of course it was exactly that kind of reaction that was both a frustration and the reason she was doing this in the first place.

With a new resolve, Kitty pushed herself out of the armchair and stood up, grabbing a worn down chalk stub from amongst the mess of diagrams on the coffee table (pentacle after pentacle, drawn again and again until it felt like every line, every angle was burned into her retinas). She made her way over to the cleared space in the centre of the floor. The hardwood floorboards shone where Kitty had spent hours the previous day scrubbing away years of filth. 

It was now or never.

And then she could get back on track. Help the commoners continue the struggle, maybe eventually head to Egypt.

Sliding to her knees, Kitty hesitated for just a moment, and then began to trace the lines of the pentacle. Knowing the pattern so well, her hands immediately fell into an automatic movement, and her mind drifted again.

Bartimaeus didn't get a funeral. After all, he was but a demon. Cruel and emotionless. Slandered and enslaved by magicians. Who cares if he was dead. ("Dead?" Who said those creatures were alive in the first place?) There were plenty more where he came from. Even many who were better, undoubtedly. Kitty's mouth formed a grim line. 

Magicians. How could they reconcile the fact that all their 'magic' was simply the product of the very creatures they detested so much. 

No, not creatures. Sentient beings. Unlike some magicians she'd met.

But Kitty was one of them now. Her hand faltered for a moment in the centre of a spiralling curve.

Bartimaeus had certainly had something to say about that.

The thing that had held her back for months was the fact that she didn't know. And was afraid to know. What if Bartimaeus had survived? When she hadn't summoned him, there was always the possibility that he still lived. She smiled at the memory of the Other Place, and even with all of it - the sheer charisma and overwhelming power of that boy with the ageless face. Even now, as she was drawing the pentacle, he could be in the Other Place, waiting.

She shook her head again. No, not waiting. Not alive.

"He's dead. He's dead." Kitty muttered to herself. A morbid mantra, undoubtedly. But better not to hope at all, and be surprised, than let herself believe that he could have survived.

It was a good enough plan in theory, but that tiny glimmer of hope just _wouldn't go away_. She wished it would. If Kitty summoned him, and he didn't come, if he was dead, then it seemed that sense of something better, something _more_ , would be gone.

Stupid. _Stupid Bartimaeus_. Why did this have to happen? Why did she ever even meet him? Couldn't he look after himself? (Of course he could). But for some reason Kitty couldn't let him. She allowed herself to imagine for a moment how much easier, simpler, her life would be if the djinni had just kidnapped her and left it at that - no life altering conversations or discussions about morality. Easier, simpler. But not the same. Really, what if he _was_ dead?

" _Stop it_ ," Kitty muttered, tossing the stump of chalk aside and surveying the freshly-drawn pentacle with a new conviction. The lines were perfect. Not a curve out of place. "Either he's alive, or he's been dead for a while, and I should be long over it." And also not talking to herself in an empty house.

She stepped into the pentacle, at the centre of the intricate lines and loops, doubt clouding her mind. Kitty was so distracted she almost forgot to leave a large gap in the chalk line, so Bartimaeus wouldn't be trapped. If he came.

Kitty drew in a deep breath. It seemed odd after so many weeks of fretting, and studying, and practicing. It all came down to this moment. She'd know one way or another, and that would be that. _Or_ , something would go wrong with the summoning and she'd die in a horrific, djinn-related accident. But there was no point worrying about that now.

She tucked a strand of silvery hair behind her ear, and began the summoning.

**Bartimaeus**

Never before had I found the Other Place boring - mind numbingly _boring_ \- and believe me, I'd been there a long time. Think, longer than the history of your solar system, long time. Don't believe me? Your loss. Oh, to be so utterly ignorant of the greater spirits around you. Namely, me.

Why was I so bored? The answer was, as helpfully as always, that I didn't really know. The only time I ever, ever remembered wanting to get out of the Other Place, back to Earth, was when Ptolemy gave me his last gift. He saved me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Oh how I fought and I fought, my essence spreading and stretching until I almost lost myself in the past lives of the other spirits of the Other Place. They thought I was mad. I'm not entirely convinced that I wasn't, at least a little bit.

Don't get me wrong, this was definitely not about Nathaniel. A djinni of my level doesn't get all emotional over every magician that dismisses me during a tricky situation. (Not that that happens very often). Besides, that boy was plain obnoxious for most of the time I knew him, with the exception of one small moment, right there at the end. No, this is definitely not because of him.

But i'm getting off topic.

My essence stretched out. If I was human i'm pretty sure a few joints would have popped satisfactorily. It always amazed me how quickly the Other Place could heal. It could only have been a few weeks since the whole Nathaniel trauma, Earth time.

A few weeks. That's turning out to be quite a long time in the Other Place, for me.

I might never be summoned again, I was presumed dead.

That's what every one of us here dreams of, of course. An eternity, uninterrupted, never confined to the painful restraints of a physical form. Forever drifting, remembering, sharing memories, pictures. As long as the magicians believed I was dead, it would be time for me to start living in the proverbial heaven. As long as they thought I was dead.

Kitty. Kitty would need to think I was dead.

Why did that thought bother me so much? I'd never even had a second thought about the welfare of a human. Then again, I had really only known magicians before...and judging from the evidence, magicians and commoners were almost two different species.

But still, why wouldn't Kitty get out of my head. Her stupid, human face. It was nothing special; frowning on the back of the golem, misshapen and lumped here in the Other Place ... glowing with a strange aura back on Earth.

Stop now.

This ... _boredom_ , was ruining my moment of triumph. I should have been happy, overjoyed, beyond words! I might never have to go back.

Never find out what happened after I left.

Why did I care what happened on Earth? It's nothing to do with me! Never will be anything to do with me again, if all goes to plan. Isn't this what I wanted? The ideal, perfect plan.

It was all irrelevant anyway, because I was never going back.

...

An incessant tugging in my essence. A summoning.

Oh, the irony.

Was it-

I stifled that thought before it started. It wasn't.

But what if it was...her.

I was so deep in thought I barely even felt the pain of my essence being compressed down to a single point. I slipped into my most comfortable guise. Ptolemy.

My heart began pounding in my chest, well, Ptolemy's. It had to be Kitty. It had to be. No one else would ever dream that a magician would waste their final breath freeing a spirit. No one that immediately occurred to me - and that, of course, is saying something.

The Other Place vanished, a room melted into view around me.

Along with a face I had never thought I'd see again.

"Hello, Bartimaeus." 

His voice was calm, utterly composed.

Correction. A face I'd hoped I'd never see again


	2. I miss the days when people stayed dead

**Kitty**

Kitty waited for one minute, give him time.

Two.

She sat down, adjusted the hem of her shirt.

Three.

Kitty rubbed away at the edge of the pentacle. He'd need a big, definite gap in the chalk.

Four.

A slight ache began in her chest. She scrutinised a stray sliver of rubber hanging off the side of her shoe sole.

Five.

Breathing hitched slightly, only briefly.

Six.

Eyes watering.

Seven.

The expression on Kitty's face would have been comical if it wasn't torn between steadfast stoicism, and utter despair.

Eight.

Despair won. Kitty's eyes closed and she took a fast, shuddering breath. She couldn't do it any longer. He was dead. Bartimaeus was never coming back. All that time she'd thought he was alive, she hadn't admitted to anyone, but she'd believed it. Bartimaeus would never go out like that, would he? No fanfare, no witty last line, no harebrained escape.

She hadn't mourned him at all, and he'd been dead for months.

At last a dry, racking sob escaped her lips. Kitty placed a fist over her mouth in frustration. Why? Why did she even care? He was a demon. He probably hadn't cared about her at all, no feelings, just another name in a list stretching back thousands of years. He was a demon. A djinni. A monster.

Another muffled sob behind her hand. She was _better_ than this, Kitty Jones shouldn't be crying over some apathetic demon.

It was no good.

Kitty could try as hard as she wanted. But she knew, Bartimaeus did care, he was her friend. The ironic thing was she hadn't known for sure until just before he left, died, disappeared. The way he had looked at her after returning together from the Other Place. He looked right through her and was in awe, and respected, something he saw. And now that new, exciting Bartimaeus was never coming back.

The hand Kitty was using to muffle her sobs ( _No, she wasn't crying_ ) raised to cover her eyes as Kitty closed them and took a deep breath.

Memories flooded through her mind.

Bartimaeus. As Ptolemy. Sitting close by in a ruined building, his face turned aside. Light from the setting sun struck his exposed cheekbone, his shoulder, a golden creature crouched among the rubble. Grinning in the form of a skull when she tried to trick him, full of his own victory, his smarts. A huge red bird, gripping her in his claws. Stomach lurching tilts up and down in the sky. Ptolemy again, gauzy wings folded behind him, talking calmly as the Golem approached.

Kitty felt stabbing pains in her stomach. She couldn't breathe.

Joking. _Joking_. As a deranged afrit crept closer. Reduced to a pile of muck, sore and tired, fading, vanishing. The feeling that he was looking back at her. Bartimaeus. The relief at the sound of him amid the chaos in the Other Place. A boy with an ageless face, smiling at her lopsided mannequin. Order in a world of anarchy. Squashed and squeezed, compressed again into a tiny, material body. Because of her. His eyes, still the ageless boy, in Nathaniel's face.

Tears. Finally. Kitty's eyes throbbed. Sore and red.

The last time she saw him, it was Nathaniel, yet ... still Bartimaeus. Both of them trying to protect her. Working together.

Kitty almost chuckled to herself then. Sure, Nathaniel was nice, at the end. But she missed. Actually _missed_ Bartimaeus's jokes, his sarcasm, when he was serious; telling her about ancient battles, past acquaintances. He was more than a friend. He was ... a teacher? No. He was ...

Strange. Ancient. Ignorant. Clever. Obstinate. _Cocky_ , and always, _always_ infuriatingly sarcastic.

Even in the state Kitty was in a traitor corner of her mouth tilted upwards at that thought.

He was the most vibrant, unpredictable, exciting _person_ that Kitty had ever met. She felt ... she, he was ... _I ... you_ ...

No.

_Bartimaeus is gone. Any feelings,_ those _feelings, are useless._

**Bartimaeus**

You know how sometimes you think you know something, but then it turns out you don't really know that something, and the something that you think you know turns out to actually be something quite different? Happens all the time, right?

No? Not following me?

Let's simplify it.

When someone, a person say, is killed. And you, maybe you don't actually bear witness to said killing; let's say you happen to see this death through the eyes of a magician whose body you have just recently taken residence in - For argument's sake. You would generally refer to that person as dead. Correct?

Now, i'm just going to go ahead and state a hypothesis here: When someone's dead, there's no second thoughts, no 'oh, actually; I change my mind'. When someone is dead, they stay dead. Full stop. Never in my very long lifetime had I ever had reason to doubt this little theory. It's one thing that is always right, call it a a 'fundamental law of nature,' if you will.

So, as i'm sure you'll agree, a problem occurs when said dead person summons you. Not only are they now alive, they are also apparently a magician.

A stinking great magician.

Ok, so everyone seems to be able able to become a magician these days, but not many people can say they've died and lived to tell the tale. Obviously.

Get it now?

For one thing it is definitely not pleasant when this 'dead' person sends a bolt of lighting to strike you in the neck while you stand there, very reasonably, with your mouth hanging open.

And so we get around to the current situation, because there I was, face to face with a dead man. No, not in a crypt, or a graveyard, but a nice-looking summoning room. New chalk, new floorboards, new, new, new. Face to face with a dead man, and shocked with several thousand volts of electricity. I think even I, Sakhr-al-Djinni, was justified in a slight expression of surprise.

I yelped and scrambled backwards. Not a good idea when you are in a pentacle the size of a phone booth. Let's just say I ended up with fewer blows than my pride had to take.

Of course, never missing a beat, I admirably regained my composure as much as is possible when you are blackened like a sausage that's been left on the barbecue, and sat up. Quickly switching guises into something suitably imposing. New rule; never let dead men see your weaknesses.

Okay, so it was a kitten. Shoot me.

But, oh boy, was it one severely ticked-off kitten. And they can be vicious, believe me. I'd like to see you do better in my situation.

The man in the opposite pentacle folded his arms smugly. His heavily scarred face bearing a sufficiently toothless leer.

"Nothing to say, demon?"

The kitten just about managed to squeak:

"Is this about those boots I took?"


	3. An unwanted reunion

**Bartimaeus**

"This is ... unexpected." The kitten commented calmly, licking a paw and smoothing back the fur on its head. "Still, I would think you could come up with something a little better. I guess I can give you a few marks for the face. Scary."

And it was true, the guy looked like he'd tried to wash himself with a piece of barbed wire and then jumped into a furnace for good measure. This isn't such a crazy idea as you might think; I've seen a lot of things in my time.

"Shouldn't you be dead? I have to say, I'm somewhat disappointed." The kitten set its paw down and looked at the man. The _mercenary_. "In my experience, the Pestilence usually finishes most people off."

I remembered some of the memories I'd picked up in Nathaniel's head. The flesh of his face falling inwards, the skin cracking like old paper, that final smile, displaying impossible extents of teeth.

**_How's that for a pretty picture, eh? Mind you, that wasn't the only thing I saw in the boy's head; Oh boy, if Kitty could have_ seen _..._**

The man slowly lowered himself to a sitting position, I watched intently. One finger over the edge of the pentacle and I would be on him in an instant. It was surprising how often magicians did make this mistake, humans can be immensely dense. _Are_.In most cases.

"It's a shame about your master - What was his name? Ah, yes. Mandrake." He scratched absently at one of the bandages holding his face together. "Rather mundane name if you ask me. He seemed the sort of type to go around calling himself Gladstone, or something equally pompous." The bandage covering his cheek shifted slightly, the flesh below it shifting a sickening amount. "It is a shame he died, isn't it? I never got the chance to thank him for leaving me in that Pestilence infected chamber. I'm sure he would have found it a very enlightening conversation." 

I scoffed.

"Yes, I'm sure he's rolling in his grave as we speak."

He paused and peered at me out of the corner of his eye **_(I mean, I assume it was the corner. Hard to tell with the new face, and all)_**. 

"Still, _you're_ here, aren't you now, Bartimaeus?"

The kitten assumed a shocked expression, if a kitten can actually _have_ a shocked expression.

"Why, yes, I am. Ain't that a surprise?" 

I leapt up, trotting to the edge of the circle. "And speaking of that - Now that we've got through all those pesky pleasantries, I really must be on my way. It was nice seeing you and all, I do _love_ reminiscing about old times. But things to get done, you know? Drifting through the dust of space time, contemplating life, the universe and everything - you know the drill. So I'll leave you to your plotting - Have a nice life! Good luck with the face!"

To emphasise my point I became a column of smoke and slowly drifted upwards, fading away as I rose.

The man didn't move.

"Oh you're not going anywhere, Bartimaeus. In fact, your going to be staying here for a _long_ time."

I slipped easily into Ptolemy's guise. No point in trying to scare the guy. He looked like he wouldn't bat an eyelid if a horde of Golems from Prague were charging right at him **_(Mind you, if that was me, I wouldn't waste my time batting an eyelid, I'd turn tail and run for my life)_**. 

But you get my point.

"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to do? Sit in that pentacle for the next hundred years? I warn you, I've yet to be beaten in a staring contest. And people tell me I'm not the best company."

The man merely smiled. And this wasn't one of those nice 'Hey, how you doing?' smiles. It was more a 'Good day, I'm about to kill you' smile. There's a big difference, usually involving the visibility of teeth. Trust me.

And then he said something that brought back rather unpleasant memories.

"Ever heard of the spell of Indefinite Confinement?"

**Kitty**

_Knock-Knock_

Someone at the door.

"Miss Jones? Miss Jones! I know you're in there!"

"Go away." Kitty mumbled. She was surprised by how rough her voice sounded.

"Kitty! Open this door! We're going to be late!"

Kitty rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She was still lying in the pentacle, now almost completely rubbed away. How long had it been since she tried to summon Bartimaeus? A few minutes? Half an hour? She didn't know.

"Kitty! I'm coming in, whether you want me to or not!"

She sighed and closed her eyes.

There was a loud bang, followed by the sound of splintering wood.

Kitty's eyes flashed open and she shot upright. What the—?

A foliot, in the shape of a rather evil-looking cherub, burst into her room. Followed promptly by Rebecca Piper. The woman was wearing a bottle-green dress that flowed all the way down past her ankles and shimmered in what little light filtered through Kitty's closed curtains. In one hand she held a bulging plastic carrier bag.

"The State address begins in half an hour, and I-" Rebecca stopped and took in the room around her. She clicked her fingers, "Simpkins! Send word to the Prime Minister, Miss Jones and I may be a little late tonight."

The cherub nodded briefly and flitted out of the room.

Rebecca put aside her bag, knelt down and helped Kitty to a nearby chair. "What happened?" She asked, glancing around at the mess. She did a double take at the floor where Kitty had been and gasped. "Is that a pentacle? Kitty! Was it a demon?"

Kitty sniffed. "Don't call them demons." She mumbled in a small voice. "And no, it wasn't, it's my fault."

Rebecca looked confused.

"What's your fault?"

Admittedly, Kitty had completely forgotten about the State address happening that evening, and in hindsight it was a terrible idea to have tried this only hours beforehand. Nevertheless, Kitty found the last thing she wanted was to stay in this room with the remains of her pentacle. She rubbed her eyes and stood up, rubbing her hands together to remove a stray smudge of chalk. "Nothing. It's nothing. You're right, shouldn't we be going?" 

At the lack of response from the woman behind her, Kitty turned back to face Rebecca. 

Rebecca hadn't moved an inch. Looking Kitty critically up and down.

"Um...Kitty? Have you seen what you look like? Summoning pentacle aside, which we _will_ be talking about later, we want you to make an impression at the address, not a scene"

Kitty paused and looked down at herself. She was wearing an old pair of tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt, both of which were stained all over with more chalk smears. She held a hand up to her scalp and felt her hair tangled all over her head. Kitty didn't want to imagine what her face looked like. She didn't even have shoes on.

"Oh." Kitty stood there, she wanted nothing more than to get out of this room as quickly as possible, away from the pentacle, but she could hardly walk into the address like this.

In the end Rebecca solved the problem. With another skeptical look at the remains of the pentacle, she handed Kitty the carrier bag. Kitty looked inside and raised her eyebrows.

"Expecting this, were you?"

Rebecca just strode past her, out of the door.

"I had a feeling you wouldn't be ready to go, good thing I planned ahead."

Despite herself, Kitty grinned. "Wait a minute, then." She called.

Rebecca laughed over her shoulder. "No chance. We're late as it is. You'll have to change when we get there."


	4. The ticking clock

**Bartimaeus**

I stuck a finger in my ear and twisted it as if trying to unblock it.

"What was that? Indefinite Confinement? I know the one - pretty tricky spell I warn you, just as likely to backfire on the magician using it as trap any spirits"

I trailed off hopefully.

The mercenary **_(Yes, even after more than four years, I still didn't know his name. But seriously, when a guy's trying to kill you, what would your first priority be? Standing there like an idiot waiting for a handshake and introductions, or running like your life depended on it... Actually, scratch that; All humans are idiots, there's the answer to that question. Djinn? We have our priorities in a better order)_** gently pulled off the bandage that had been wrapped several times around his face.

Even by my standards, it was pretty disgusting. I won't go into details, it'll only put you off your dinner. But just imagine what it would look like if you had had most of your flesh, and a fair bit of what's underneath, eaten away by a living disease. So you only had the odd flap of skin, stretched painfully over the bones underneath, and the whole thing was barely healed - off yellow stain still seeping into some of the bandages.

He finished unwinding and set the mess of stained cloth on the floor.

"Can you possibly imagine the pain of being left to die? No chance to escape, the complete desolation of it. The certainty your life is over-"

I rolled my eyes. "Actually no, I don't have to imagine. I've been in more life or death situations than you could even comprehend. And if you think-"

"-That master of yours left me to die, no remorse whatsoever. Self satisfied fool. If he'd had his way, i'd be nothing more than a stain on the floor of parliaments vault."

I sighed wistfully.

"For once I wish he _did_ get his way."

He ignored me. _Again_.

"But luckily for me. The staff and amulet weren't the only things in that vault. If Mandrake wasn't such a fool, he would've seen just how much was stored in there-"

I cut him off again. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not stupid." I said in as bored voice as I could manage. "I can see where this is going. 'Mandrake, fool that he was, didn't even catalog the remaining contents of the vault. He left it all behind. _Including another amulet_ , right?"

The mercenary nodded his head. 

"Correct."

"So, once he had gone, thinking you were dead. You crawled over to this amulet, and, I'm guessing, put it on."

He nodded once more. "It seems I have no need to tell you this, Bartimaeus. So why don't we just get on with your punishment, eh?"

He held up a small metal box, it looked like one of those ones that comes with really posh packs of cards. Even had little engravings all over it. Nice, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing. _I_ don't.

I frowned. "You want a game of poker? No thanks, I prefer snap."

It is _so_ annoying when people ignore you.

"I took this box from among Lovelace's inventory at parliament." 

I sighed, of course Lovelace would have had something ridiculous like that. You can't kill a person and just leave it at that anymore, it always comes back to haunt you **_(Take my current situation as evidence of that)_**.

The man continued. "I'm sure you'll be glad to hear that it's made of pure silver, only the best from our dear, departed friend." Silver as well? Wasn't this just my lucky day. "I completed the Indefinite Confinement before you arrived-"

"Oh, it's just so kind of you for planning ahead. How thoughtful!" **_(I am being sarcastic here, just so you know. As I said before, humans are thick)_** I settled into the shape of a business-like woman, who put her hands on her hips and grimaced in a rather un-ladylike fashion.

"-And I'm just about to make a trip to the landfill." He glanced at the box in his hand and tossed it in the air absentmindedly. "This really is a rather ratty old tin, don't you think? It's not really worth keeping. I think i'll just take it with me." He slipped it into his pocket.

Despite myself, I rolled my eyes; Magicians are _such_ dramatists.

The mercenary looked back up at me. Then at a point over my head. What was it with humans and direct eye contact?

"It's about 5 o'clock now. I'd say you've got about 12 hours before the spell activates. I'll dismiss you. You can do what you want until then, _except_ for anything that will bring harm to either myself, or this tin. Think of it as a parting favour." Again with the creepy smile. "Before you spend eternity encased in silver, that is."

I settled back to Ptolemy's form. Arms crossed.

"Oh, well that's so generous of you. I'll be sure to mention it to the people who write your epitaph. I _do_ hope you have all the funeral expenses paid. Because _this_ time. You'll be staying dead."

The mercenary regarded me calmly, and then spoke the words of my dismissal.

**Kitty**

Kitty leant out of the car window, staring listlessly at the sky as a . A few months ago it would have been unheard of for a commoner to be allowed _near_ a car, let alone _in_ one. But since Bartimaeus and Nathaniel, a lot of things had changed around London. There were talks about commoners being given an education, maybe even to eventually have some kind of voice in politics. Of course the magicians still summoned their slaves and used them with the same, if not more, contempt than before.

But Kitty was working on it. Or had been.

The aching feeling rose up in her stomach and she quickly thought of something else, anything else.

It's extremely difficult to make yourself stop thinking something.

Only one picture in her head now. The millions that had crowded into her brain before had lessened into more of a gentle trickle. Less overpowering. But still there.

A slight pang in the corners of her eyes suddenly brought her back to reality. Kitty realised how close she had been to crying. Again.

This really was getting ridiculous. She wound up the window and settled back into the warm leather of the seat. Kitty shook her head and put a hand to her face. The skin was hot, as if in fever.

Why, though? She had had a life before Bartimaeus, so why couldn't she have one again? It wasn't that hard.

"Miss Jones? Is something wrong?"

Kitty glanced up. Rebecca Piper was glancing back at her in the rear view mirror, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

She realised she still had one hand to her forehead and swiftly lowered it, sinking back into the chair.

"It's just a little hot in here. Could you turn on the air conditioning?"

Rebecca didn't look convinced. But she nodded.

"Okay, then."

The next few minutes passed in restful silence, Kitty sat, mind wandering, completely still, while Rebecca continued to negotiate the crowded streets of London.

A light fall of rain drifted down in the early evening dim. Magicians and commoners alike walked the streets in dark coats, shiny with a layer of dampness. The occasional afrit, or djinn, whipped by overhead. Heedless of the darkening light and the chill bite to the air.

Eventually, just as Kitty's eyelids began to droop, the last corner was turned and parliament came into sight. In contrast to the stark bleakness of the rest of central London that evening, a throng of brightly dressed people were all jostling each other at the doors, trying to be the first ones in from the cold night air.

As they stepped out of the car, Rebecca checked to make sure Kitty still held the bag.

"See that service entrance?" She said, and pointed to the left of the main gates.

Kitty nodded.

"I sent word ahead, the guards will let you through. If you go in there, down the stairs on the right and take the second door on the left at the bottom, you should come to the staff changing rooms. No one will be around, so you'll be able to get changed."

Kitty smiled her thanks, and started off in the direction of the service entrance. "Tell them I'll be there soon!" She called back to Rebecca over her shoulder.

The service entrance was about 20 metres or so away from the main door. Kitty slowed as she drew away from the loud shouts and greetings and mindless chattering that hovered around it. It was nice to have peace and quiet. In that way, perhaps being a commoner was better.

Kitty stepped around an overflowing dust bin as she reached the door. A rather uninterested watchman stood nearby. Kitty hesitated, but he looked her briefly up and down, then nodded and went back to staring blandy at the street behind her.

She put her hand to the flaking paint of the doorframe. The door itself seemed rather neglected, _all the money must have been spent on the magicians quarters_ , she thought.

"Figures." Kitty sighed, and gently turned the handle.

She had just walked through, into the starkness of the corridor beyond, when suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had the feeling something was watching her.

Her heart sped up a notch, and she took a few brisk steps further into the hallway. Suddenly she had an overwhelming desire to be among the noisy bustling of the magicians inside the well-lit main hall. She reached the stairs and began two climb down, two steps at a time.

A strange, quiet rustling noise sounded at the top of the stairs, and Kitty increased her pace until she reached the lower hallway, where she promptly pushed her way into the changing rooms

It seemed very dark all of a sudden. Kitty squinted into the now menacing shadows of the space around her. What _was_ it?

Another rustle. This time behind her, in the direction of the door. She spun around. Resisting the urge to call out. Heart pumping even faster.

And then- A tap on her shoulder. The blood froze in Kitty's veins, as she almost considered not looking behind her.

Only almost though.


End file.
